Adventures of the AntiFlock: MTK oneshots
by XxPhoenix FlightxX
Summary: Made to Kill is back! These are one-shots about anything and everything to do with the anti-flock, past present and future. Genres and updates will greatly vary. Please read and review!


Alex's POV

Day after day, we went through it. The pain and torture that was the School. We've grown up here, for ten straight years, but now, things are starting to change. We've always been told we were special, different, but that much was obvious. We each had a set of wings, somewhere around six feet long. But now, things were starting to happen. The testing was different, as if they were anticipating changes. One week in particular was burned into my memory. I was first up today, so it was bright and early when they pulled me out of my cage. I didn't entirely mind being first every once in a while; it would be so early in the morning that I was groggy enough to not care what they did to me. But that wasn't the case this morning.

They sat me down on a chair at a table, nothing too out of the ordinary. It just got weird when they started to strap me down tightly. Still, it had happened before. But I didn't like it. Next came the monitors, though this was normal. They didn't run a single test without monitoring us, our heart rates, and breathing and everything. Then they were talking, but what really troubled me was what they said.

"It's been ten years and so far, nothing has come up in any of them. I say we just test it and see how it turns out. The sooner their skills are fully developed, the better."

"Alright, so we're just going to try and manually stimulate it? Why him?"

"His will show up the best, I think. And it's easier to test."

"Alright- wait, perhaps he should eat first?"

"Shouldn't make a difference." Before I could register it a knife flashed out and cut deep into the skin of my arm. I screamed, more out of surprise and fear than pain. I thrashed, struggling as much as I could, but someone shouted for them to hold me down and they did, forcing me to be still.

"You have to do it again." My other arm.

"Again." I screamed so hard it hurt.

"Again."

I yelled at them, telling them to let go. It never worked. Twelve cuts later, six on each arm, they stopped. I was crying, no, sobbing. Why? I always thought that they were trying to build us up, make us stronger, but this couldn't be helping. It hurt so bad. A white handkerchief appeared in front of my face.

"Spit." I did as I was told. Eyes blurred with tears, I watched him lift it to my arm. I squirmed and strained to get away but there was nowhere to go. He gripped my arm and rubbed the cloth into a wide cut. I cried out again. When he finished, they all waited a few minutes, watching my arm. I didn't understand. Why were they doing this? What were they even doing in the first place? Growing up here, you know that there would be a lot of things that you couldn't, and wouldn't understand. But this was madness. As much as they had hurt me, they didn't actually try to kill me. What did I do wrong?

"It's not enough. It's healing, but it's too slow. It would never work. Try some of the newer formula."

I looked up to see a gleaming syringe. Nothing new. Maybe they would just kill me now; put me out of my misery. I didn't struggle at all when the pierced it into my skin and injected me, but as soon as it was in my blood stream I regretted it. My arms burned, right over the already-throbbing cuts. I could barely hear the next voice instructing me to spit again. I spat. They rubbed the hankie into my wound once more, and it was so cool against the burning I could just imagine the steam coming off my arms. But the burning sensation was gone. They told me to spit again, so I did. Over and over, I spat, and soon, I wasn't burning anymore, at least, but I was still hurting, and for some reason I was exhausted. But it wasn't over.

"It's healing up nicely. Is that all for today?"

"No, we haven't tried-"

"Are you insane? Not today. We can try it tomorrow, but if we do it today he won't live."

"Yes, but we have to hurry. Ten years, and not only have their abilities not fully developed, but we're missing the other half, remember? The sooner we get the boys going, the sooner we can use them to find and neutralize the girls."

"The others are missing, too,"

"What?"

"The other avian hybrids, from California. They went missing just last week. We have a head start."

"A head start means nothing if you don't take it, and we're in no position to do so."

"And neither will we be if we kill him, now. He may not seem like an important addition to the team, but I can assure you, we'll need this one."

"What good can a Healer do, if we're trying to destroy the bad in the world?"

"He'll come in handy. Even the most elite team will get hurt, here and there. That's what he's for. The others, in California, don't have that. We'll use it against them."

I was picked up, and soon dumped back into my cage. I heard Sheen and DeSean calling my name, but I couldn't move.

"Alex, wake up, now," said Sheen. He had taken on the role of being our leader, and had long ago promised that none of us would ever die here. He wasn't about to break that promise now. On his behalf, I at least opened my eyes. Sheen spoke seriously, "Alex, what happened?"

I blinked, practically drunk with pain. Drowsily, I looked down at my arms, spread awkwardly over the plastic bottom of the crate. I was still bleeding, but I also must have been hallucinating. They weren't as big as before. I started to slip into nothingness.

"Alex, hang on, man," DeSean spoke up. "Something's wrong. They didn't take either of us, they just left. Did they say anything?"

I tried to form a sentence, but all I could get out was a moan. I started to slip away again.

"Alex, stay awake," Sheen ordered. "If you black out you might not wake up again."

But I was already gone.

The next morning was the same. They came, dragged me out, and brought me back to the room. Today, I was strapped down on a table, tighter than yesterday. I was too weak to fight back. I woke up, and I was alive, for now. I saw a flash of steel again, and braced myself, when-

"Wait. He's too low of nutrients right now. Get an IV and wait a while. We can't afford to lose any of them, not now, after we've gone this far." So they did. It was hours, maybe, before I became coherent again. I felt stronger, better. And in being more aware I became more worried. I was afraid of a repeat of yesterday. No, scratch that, I was dead terrified. Another half hour passed and they decided I was strong enough. They asked me to spit, only a lot more today. I did, though it didn't make sense: I wasn't cut yet.

"Take the IV out, it might interfere. We don't want any variables with this."

They took it out, and I watched. The knife glinted once more, but didn't yet make it into my flesh. A nod, and I was firmly held down, on top of the restraints. My heart pounded hard against my ribs. The one with the knife grabbed hold of my hand, and then put the knife to my pinkie finger. And cut it clean off. I screamed more than I had in my ten years here, combined. I thrashed in pain, but they held firm. Tears flowed freely down my face. Nothing held them back anymore. I wasn't watching anymore, I couldn't bear it, but he still had a firm grip on my hand. He rubbed the cloth on my stump of a finger, but the damage was done. Something hot and hard was pressed into my finger-stump and held there for a long time. After forever, I was still sobbing, and they picked me up, dragged me down the hall and threw me back down into the crate. But tonight, I would get no merciful sleep. I wouldn't pass out from blood loss. I had to endure through the night with this pain.

"Alex! Alex, what is it?" they asked. I lifted up a shaking hand, to show them, but I didn't see it. My pinkie was there. A red ring bled slightly around the bottom knuckle, and it hurt like it should, but it was there. I was absolutely horrified. I was still, deep down, glad to have all ten fingers, but simply terrified that it had been cut off and reattached like that. Without a word, I rolled onto my side, facing away from them, and cried some more. I was a ten-year-old in living Hell.

Five, six years passed, and I finally knew at least a part of what was going on. We were made to destroy the world, or at least "the corrupted parts". Which, to them, was all of it. Ever since our abilities showed up, they trained us to find the rest of the team, the girls. I wondered endlessly about what sort of abilities they had. What was needed to take over the world? Each one of us was specifically trained on an individual girl. We didn't know their names, but we had all agreed on one thing: they couldn't come here. No one could be put through the same torture we had, and these men most certainly couldn't take over the world. We planned, as much as we could, on ways to stop it. One day, we would be sent out to track them. But we needed to find a way out. From our training, we put things together about them, and began to form a plan. It was risky, but it was smart. Sheen thought of it. Then I found out something that made me want to save them even more. We were made for each other, all of us. That's why we were being trained individually. Some days, the thought that there was just one girl, somewhere out there, that was made just for me, my perfect other half, is what kept me going. I kept saying to myself, that it was almost here, almost over. I would find her, and we would all run away, and stay free. Everything would fall into place.

Now we were in a helicopter, flying high above the ground. DeSean was tracking them, going purely by instinct. He had never met them, so he had to really focus. Neither Sheen nor I talked to him. I gazed out the open side, wind blowing in my face. I stared at my hand, looking at the thin ring around my pinkie, a scar that would never fade away. I looked at it all the time, it seemed. It reminded me of everything I'd been through, and everything I was going to end up doing in my life. I often told myself that it would all be worth it, some day. Today was that day, I guess. To distract myself, I looked down at the snow and trees, looking for them, or at least pretending to. Sure, we needed to find them for our plan to work, but I was just afraid for it to fall through. Then we'd all be in serious trouble.

"Good luck, birdie," said the Eraser (in human form) next to me. I didn't know his name, but I knew him from times past. "Maybe you'll get a cute one, if you're lucky. Cuz, don't birds mate for life?"

They laughed. I ignored him. I saw him pull out a switchblade and sharpen it. I swallowed; Erasers weren't allowed to have knifes. I took a few deep breaths to keep calm. It would all work better if I was calm.

"We're here," said DeSean. His voice usually held a joking tone, but today wasn't a day for that. His voice had gone dark. He'd always known that it would be his job to search for them internally. He regretted that, in his words, "If we fail, and all get taken back to the school, it'll be my fault." Even though we had assured him otherwise. Sheen and I gave him sympathetic looks while the Erasers howled in celebration, morphing into growling monsters. From another helicopter near to us, a flock of hybrid crows were released. They were bred to be backup for any mission gone wrong. On command, they would attack the enemy without mercy, tearing them to shreds. A voice crackled over the radio.

"Sir, we've got some owls down there. As in our owls."

"What?" Owls? Those had been made before the crows, for the same purpose. Only, they lived only to protect, not attack. They were rejected, sent to the wild to die. I had no idea they were still alive. Sheen and I shared the same knowing look. Maybe they could be used to our advantage.

"Never mind them, we can't lose these experiments," replied the whitecoat piloting the chopper. He looked back at us. "Alright, boys, what are you waiting for? Get down there and catch those girls!"

Mindlessly, I jumped out of the flying machine, letting myself fall for a little while. I feel Sheen and DeSean follow after me. For just a moment, it's as if we really are free. But we're not there just yet. It surprises me to think that in minutes, everything will fall into place. Could this be too good to be true? No, I couldn't think of that now. I just had to focus on playing my part in this.

I could see them, in a snow-covered clearing. They had been playing and laughing just a moment ago, but I saw them frozen, looking in the trees. The crows. But something was off. I counted the figures on the ground. Four? I looked over at my friends; they had noticed it too. And then they spotted us in the sky, and gathered in a formation. Here we go.

The three of us touched down to the ground. Yes, there were the three girls, with wings outspread, and one boy, with no wings that I could see. What did this mean? I didn't have time to ponder, I simply spoke out.

"Who is the Translator?" I used Norwegian, just like we planned. The whitecoats couldn't get a chance to understand us, it would ruin everything. The Translator was my other half, she was here. But which one? Finally, a girl stepped forward from the middle, throwing a glance at the boy next to her.

"I am. Why?" She spoke Norwegian back, but her voice was dark, cautious. I looked her over, seeing the answer for the first time. Big green eyes, brown curls. She was pretty. The day they cut up my arms for the first time, my heart was coated in ice. I was numb, for all these years. It was the only way to live through it all. But seeing her, actually seeing the hope in front of my eyes, knowing it was actually real, my heart thawed again, it beat again. I'd been flat lining for a very long time, but it was fixed. This was her.

"Listen to me," I continued. "You have to trust us. We have an idea; you just need to follow along."

"Why should we?" she practically snarled, startling me. Why was she so upset? Her tone lightened. "And why are you speaking like this? I know you know English."

How did she know that? I mean, it wasn't hard to guess, it was likely that I knew English, considering. But still, I could possibly be Norwegian. Never mind. After arguing back and forth in Norwegian, I finally persuaded her to go along with it, just as the Erasers arrived. It was now or never…

**And there you have it. This is what happened to Alex when he was ten- this is what it was like for them in the school. So, in case you don't understand, I'll lay it down for you. The Flock was made to save the world, right? But from who? These guys. Maybe twenty years before, Itex broke into two branches. There were those that wanted to destroy all the "bad" in the world (so, all of it) and those who were bent on stopping them from doing so. The latter group made the flock, and the others obviously made the "anti-flock". It turned into a sort of life-or-death competition. They were always trying to get ahead of each other, and this was the result. I plan on doing similar chapters for Sheen and DeSean, showing how they were tested, and I have plenty of other stuff planned, as well. This was just to get the one-shot ball rolling, at least. Review if you liked it, or even if you hated it!**


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